Adriana Trigiani - Brava, Valentine

“Only once! I did that once!”

“It’s cheating, okay? It’s against the law!”

“It was a chartreuse gown, and it didn’t do a thing for me. But my back was against the wall, and I had to wear it.”

“And you.” Pamela points to me. “You’re a thief. Your neighbor, Mr. Matera, was dead for two years and you took his newspaper and read it every morning.”

“It was a glitch. I reported it to USA Today eventually.” My face burns hot with embarrassment.

“And you-” Pamela points to Tess. “Telling the ticket guy at Great Adventure that both of your children were under six, when they were seven and nine at the time. You made your own children crawl into the park on their knees to get in for free.”

“They wouldn’t honor my coupon,” Tess says in her own defense.

“It’s still cheating!” Pamela screeches.

“And you-” She points to Jaclyn. “You re-gift! That’s right. I gave you the Estée Lauder makeup kit for your birthday, and it wound up under the Christmas tree for Tess…from …you !”

“It was more her palette, not mine,” Jaclyn stutters. “I’m a winter, and she’s a summer…”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still cheating!”

“I was with you till the re-gift,” June says generously. “That’s just a skin tone thing.”

“Her point would be that we’re all sinners here,” Dad explains to June.

“Yeah, Dad, that’s my point. And chew on this. I can’t believe I got mixed up with this bunch when I knew better. I saw all the signs, but I loved you so much, Alfred, I sucked it up and joined this lot of losers! Out of all the families in Queens, out of the millions of families, I marry into this one!”

“I take umbrage-” My mother raises her voice.

“Take the umbrage. Take it all. I’m done with you people.” Pamela paces back and forth behind the table like a prosecutor on Law & Order . “And you know what? Charlie and Tom feel the same way. That’s right, when you’re whispering about us, you got it: we’re talking about you ! That’s right, the in-laws carp about you! Why do you think Tom is always going out for walks? Nobody likes fresh air that much! He can’t take you people! And Charlie? Tell ’em, Charlie. Tell them how you make up phony excuses about work so that you’re only forced to attend two major holidays a year!”

Tess turns to her husband. “Is that true?”

Charlie shrugs that it is.

“Well, then-” Tess explodes. “Guess what? Our next vacation destination is Buenos Aires! That’s right! We’re camping out with the South American side of the family!”

Charlie, embarrassed to be outed, reaches to put his arm around Tess. She lurches away from him.

“I’ve listened to you people complain for eighteen years, and I’m over it! If it wasn’t politics, it was religion. If it wasn’t RC Incorporated, it was your almighty gravy.” Pamela holds her hands tightly in fists and shouts. “I don’t care if you use garlic powder or real cloves in your gravy! It’s just sauce! Tomatoes and water! Eat it and shut up already! Stop complaining!”

“Who complains? I don’t hear any complaints,” Feen says.

Pamela ignores her and continues. “Thank God I didn’t let myself go! I wanted to-believe me. I wanted to wear Uggs and eat potato chips and watch The Real Housewives of South Bend , but I didn’t! I kept it all together! I hung on! It’s a damn good thing I kept my figure, because now I’m gonna be on my own-and this body is gonna be my revenge!” Pamela holds her hands high in the air in victory. “It’s my ticket out! You watch me.”

Gabriel is draped over the kitchen counter with his face propped in his hands as though he’s riveted to Night 3 of The Thorn Birds on TCM. Without taking his eyes off the theatrics, he dips a spoon into the bowl of cannoli filling and eats it. Aunt Feen cackles with glee under her breath as our family crumbles like blue cheese on greens before her eyes. My mother weeps into her napkin.

I read the crumpled e-mail silently to myself.

Dearest Alfred,

Our time was not now, our days were not our own, but our feelings were real. Never forget how much I love you. Happy Thanksgiving, dear Fredo, I will always be grateful for the time we had together. My love always, Kathleen

The laptop computer, open on the kitchen counter, rings once. Then again. Then a third time.

“It’s Gram on Skype,” I say.

“Close the lid!” my mother shouts, turning to Gabriel. “Close it!”

Gabriel turns as Gram’s face comes up on the screen. He snaps the screen shut, then takes the moppeen from his shoulder and wipes his brow.

“Let her hear! Let Gram hear it all ! I got nothing to hide! I don’t care if the whole country of Italy knows I’ve been besmirched!” Pamela shouts.

“It’s not you.” Alfred tries to calm his wife down.

“I know it’s not me! It’s you. You’re one of them, even when you tried not to be. You’re just like them. You turned on me too.”

“Pamela…,” he says gently.

“She calls you Fredo.” Pamela pushes against Alfred’s chest as he holds her close. “I call you Fredo. I call you that.” She weeps as Alfred puts his arms around her. “Let me go. I want my boys. Where are they?”

“At the park,” Tess and Jaclyn say in unison.

Pamela breaks free of Alfred’s grip and turns to go.

“Pam, please sit down. Please don’t go.” My mother stands. “Maybe we can help.”

“You? What are you gonna do? Tell me I didn’t read the e-mail? Tell me it’s not true? You don’t see Alfred denying anything.” Pamela places her hands in the prayer position. Through her tears, she says, “Thank God I watch Oprah .”

My father moans.

“That’s right, Dad.” She glowers. “Oprah helps me. She did a show on money management, and I watched it because, you know…” And then Pamela does the strangest thing. She puts her hands on her hips like Susan Boyle when she was flirting with Simon Cowell and Piers Morgan on Britain’s Got Talent . She shimmies her hips from side to side as she says, “My husband was fired from the bank…”

“I thought you resigned,” Feen pipes up, gleeful at all the misery. “Some resignation. Turns out it was Das Boot!”

My mother glares at her.

“Oprah was giving women tips about how to save money during tough times. I followed her advice, because why? Because I’m a good wife and I want to ease my husband’s burden! Fat chance of that! He was easing it on some government employee!”

“Thank you Pope-rah!” Aunt Feen licks her lips, hopeful for more gory details.

Pam continues, “They brought on a therapist who said that men were very vulnerable right now-that women should be sensitive to their…” And then she does it again, she wiggles her hips and says, “ huzz-bands , because of the economic downturn. Now, I didn’t think too much of it, because Alfred seemed so happy here with the elves making the shoes. And our life at home was fine. That’s right, even our sex life!”

My father puts his face in his hands. This diatribe might kill him.

Pamela screeches, “But the expert on Oprah said, ‘Check the man’s e-mails.’” She lowers her voice and growls like Linda Blair after the head spin. “And so I did. That’s how I found Kathleen Sweeney.” Tears roll down Pamela’s face.

“Wait, Pam.” Alfred reaches for her. She won’t let him touch her. “You told me you’d never cheat on me. You said you never would because your father cheated on your mother.”

“Now, just a minute…” My mother stands.

Pamela looks at my mother. “Well, he did. And you put up with it. But I think a little more of myself than you ever did of yourself.” She looks at Alfred. “You stay here. With your crazy sisters and your cheating father and your vain mother and your drunk great-aunt-”